


Keeping Count

by Ihsan997



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Planet, Aliens, Character Death, Galactic Republic, Gen, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Master/Slave, Minor Character Death, Non-Sexual Slavery, Original Character Death(s), Rattataki (Star Wars), Sith Empire, Sith Pureblood, Slave Trade, Slavery, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihsan997/pseuds/Ihsan997
Summary: This story is a prequel to a forum role play I did with the player of Lord Sidoenis on the Star Forge server for SWtOR. The role play was called “Breaking the Blood Pact” and revolved around a scientific research deal between the two Sith Lords. That role play was based on a premise for a previous encounter, and I’ve decided to write out that premise into a five chapter story.For those who’ve found and read the role play, this story will hopefully answer a few questions: what exactly happened at the warehouse, what led to the deal, and why Xuvas’ soldiers were so rough with Mr. Thinx.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Star Wars.

“I detest slave markets.”

Unwashed masses of people from every reach of the galaxy huddled together, jostling for position in the crowds passing through the outdoor bazaar of patchwork tarps, crumbling concrete platforms, and partially-flooded shop stalls. Mud squished beneath everyone’s boots even though there hadn’t been any rain for a few days, a testament to the poor plumbing which persisted on Hutta in spite of the unearned wealth wasting away in vaults. Sentients gathered around to view the denigration of their fellow sentients as living people were marched out to the dilapidated concrete platforms in chains, standing in disgraceful displays while their worth as living beings was judged by others. The entire environment was distasteful, disgusting…but also delightfully drenched in dark side energy.

Lord Xuvas felt his skin crawl and tingle simultaneously as he warily made his way through the crowd, pressing down the dirt and mud road through the debased outdoor market while taking care to avoid bumping into people. Pulling a concealing, tattered brown cloak more closely around him, the pureblood bowed his head and walked in a different pattern than was his norm, taking care that nobody in the galaxy who might know him - however slight those one-in-a-quadrillion chances might be - would recognize him in the middle of a slave market. Overkill? Perhaps.

A tall Rattataki woman walked next to him yet didn’t turn her head directly to him, avoiding any unwanted attention for themselves. “You found me in a slave market,” Pjiega said once they’d walked past a gaggle of Neimodians walking in the opposite direction.

The two of them rounded a corner, avoiding crowds as best they could. “Good outcomes don’t necessitate good processes,” he replied while they walked closely to the rickety, patchwork walls of a rusted warehouse next to them. They entered an area with fewer outright auctions of sentient beings and more loading and unloading of living merchandise, heading toward an aluminum sheet which had been used as a screechy automatic door. “The sooner we finish here, the better.”

In silence, the two of them passed by groups of arguing taskmasters and weeping slaves for sale, the waves of emotion sweeping over the area and prickling the pureblood with the private feelings and sensations of strangers he didn’t wish to know. Xuvas winced and bowed his head low, working to dampen his natural empathy while plunging into the depths of conflict which, as tantalizing as it seemed, was none of his concern. A few minutes later, they reached an oddly well-reinforced door down a lonely hallway where Pjiega insisted on being the one to knock. Whoever was on the other side knew to expect them, as there was neither hesitation nor a token request for a password; the door simply slid open and allowed the two brown-cloaked figures to slip inside unnoticed.

Within the spacious storage room was a palpable conflict which actually was Xuvas’ concern, and he allowed the negative emotions to flow into his being while the Houk doorman scanned their wristbands to confirm their identities. Giving them wide berth, the tight-lipped doorman opened a second reinforced door for them, leading into a dreary showroom with a high ceiling to contain all the negativity and desperation permeating the space’s aura. Nearly two dozen people stood on the scratched, scuffed floors in impressive silence, nary a sound to be heard in spite of the large number of people in the showroom. More guards of various backgrounds were posted around the room, including a single paymaster of unclear origins observing from the wire rafters above all the poorly-dressed bodies ambling about the showroom below. Upon arrival of the two guests, the guards began to corral eleven colorful people into the center of the room, setting up a private auction which unsettled the pureblood even while it served his purposes extremely well.

All lined up in the center of the showroom were eleven Chevins, their clothes cheap and outdated yet far too clean when compared to other slaves on the planet. All of them stood at the ready as if they were happy to be sold like livestock, not one of them even pulling at their shock collars. Their acceptance of their situation disgusted Xuvas almost as much as their situation in and of itself, though as he approached the pageant of enslaved pachyderms, he could feel the resentment simmering within a few of them…not all, but a few. Before he could reach out into their essences and separate the wheat from the chaff, however, his provisioned for the night interrupted.

“See anything you like?” hissed one of the galaxy’s most dangerous non-Force users.

Short for his species and not outwardly intimidating, the Trandoshan slaver walked next to Xuvas, facing forward but always - [i]always[/i] - observing to the sides. A scaly scoundrel who’d made such a name for himself that Empire and Republic alike avoided direct confrontation, the Python marveled more at his customer than his merchandise, perhaps curious as to why his services had been hired for such a non-violent contract.

Regardless, the Python didn’t display his curiosity on the outside. Conniving on a level of the worst Sith in-fighters, the notorious slaver indirectly sought answers to questions he wouldn’t ask directly. “Only Chevins, only educated house-slaves, closely related as you asked,” the Python hissed again, every word chosen with as much care and calculation as a pureblood Force ghost. “This is one of the more bizarre requests I can recall.”

Wary of giving the old snake too much information, Xuvas eschewed discussion and demonstrated his answer through action as he approached the elephantine captives. A few of them backed away, though one in particular stepped forward, radiating the same fear as the others yet showing a great deal of deference. “Mighty Sith, what an honor you bestow upon us with your consideration of our purchase!” the older, one-eyed Chevin said with a bowed head that infuriated one of the others…one further to Xuvas’ left, though the pureblood didn’t openly react.

“What can you do for me?” Xuvas asked, offering no information on what exactly he wanted - not to the Python, not to the paymaster watching above them, and not to the enslaved elephantines either.

Without prompting, the pandering pachyderm continued to kowtow to the potential buyer. “My group and I,” the one-eyed Chevin said in a wording which caused a spike of anger in a few of the others, “specialize in white-collar work: accounting, administration, legal filing, you name it! It would be our honor to serve one such as yourself,” the panderer said with a sweeping bow.

Resentment boiled over from one of the other Chevins in particular, though Xuvas gave no indication that he could sense it. A handful of the pachyderms were loyal to the pompous cyclops, bleeding the same obsequious nature into the Force. “Can you function independently?” Xuvas asked in a flat tone, concealing his own feelings on the unwanted flattery.

“Why, my Darth-ness,” the cyclopean Chevin said in such an overdone subservience that the aura to Xuvas’ left side flared with fury, “my group can do whatever you ask, but why would we want to do anything other than serve you?”

Unable to withstand the overacting anymore, the resentful Chevin revealed himself. The third slave from the left, the relatively thin elephantine tried to interject. “Because maybe some of us want more than-“

Another spike of anger pierced the sympathetic vibrations in the dreary showroom, this time from the one-eyed, self-appointed leader. “Because, because!” the one-eyed weasel interrupted, “because there’s nothing more that we’d want than to serve a great master efficiently! That’s what we want, right?” the Chevin cyclops said, though he didn’t wait for more than a token nod from a flunky to his right. “Right! We’re not looking for anything more than your pleasure!”

That anger, a long-seeded anger based on years of passive-aggressive rivalry, bled into the entire room, though Xuvas was the only person there who could sense it. Xuvas could see who it was now - the thinner Chevin off to the side, resentful of following an unwanted leader who felt content with the status quo. Even without physical contact, the pureblood could at least sense the desire for change, for growth, and the heat of that distaste for stagnation felt like the pleasant fullness after a warm meal. Xuvas didn’t need any further evidence.

Pulling out his lightsaber, Xuvas gave the entire room a scare except for the paymaster and the Python. The diverse array of guards tensed up, wary of what one of the red-skinned Imperial heralds was capable of. “Full payment to you both,” Xuvas announced to both the masked paymaster and the Python. “For the eleven slaves…and to clean the blood stains on the floor.”

Red saber humming, Xuvas approached the one-eyed slave, immediately causing both the Chevin and half the guards to cower away until the paymaster waved for them to hold their fire. The Python raised a scaly eyebrow, not intimidated by any Force-user but certainly interested in watching the show. The one-eyed Chevin, however, immediately fell to its knees and held out its hands.

“Wait, my lordship! If I said anything to offend you, then I didn’t mean it, I swear! My only desire was to-“

Xuvas cut diagonally in order to cleave the elephantine skull, finding the movement unusual when compared to the execution of a humanoid. Killing the cyclopean sycophant in mid-sentence, Xuvas caused most of the remaining ten to cower and wonder which one of them would be next. To his delight, however, there was one which subconsciously took a step forward, fascinated by the turn of fortune.

Putting his lightsaber away and ignoring all the guards with itchy trigger fingers, Xuvas addressed the Chevins again - and indirectly answered the Python’s indirect question. “Who wants to be [i]more[/i] than a mere slave?” he asked, though the thinner Chevin had already stepped up to him at the word ‘more.’

“I do!” the thin Chevin said while thumbing his own chest. His ambition and desire filled the entire showroom from floor to ceiling.

Looking only at the brave one, Xuvas still addressed them all by raising his voice. “Who wants the power which comes with responsibility?” he asked, though the thinner Chevin actually raised a hand like an impatient schoolchild. “Good. And don’t the rest of you ever forget it,” he said while pointing to the nine other Chevins. The paymaster nodded to the guards, and they holstered their blasters. “Now…Pjiega here will work out the details while the rest of you are brought to my ship. Just know that the strong will survive; the smart will be rewarded handsomely.”

Smoking a hookah through a hole in their mask, the paymaster chuckled in approval at the display, putting all of the guards at ease. Pjiega walked over to a Nikto who handled the back door, opening up Xuvas’ datapad to handle payment. “Their slave collars need to come off at the door; we’ll handle them from there,” she told the Nikto as the two of them stepped away from the center platform so a labor droid could drag the one-eyed corpse away.

The Nikto furrowed his brow in confusion at the request. “They’re your responsibility once you’re out of here,” he said while scratching his head.

Turning away from the others, Xuvas walked back over to the Trandoshan slaver waiting for him. The faintest hint of a frown crept into the man’s ophidian lips, though the Python’s signature in the Force was so hidden that the pureblood had to resort to mere facial expressions to read the reaction.

“You’re getting paid either way,” Xuvas whispered to the dissatisfied slaver. “Why the long face?”

Normally guarded even by the standards of Hutt Space, the Python’s visage almost transformed into something truly sentient for a brief moment. The two of them would never be friends, nor allies, nor anything other than business contacts, but for that brief moment, the Python seemed almost altruistic in his words.

“The universe has a way of keeping count,” the Trandoshan whispered back. The snakelike man’s voice was already like a whisper in normal circumstances, so Xuvas had to strain to hear the advice.

Unable to break through the Trandoshan’s anti-Force defenses, Xuvas felt at a loss as to the old snake’s intent. “What does that even mean?” he asked defensively.

The Python shook his head as if he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, answer the question. At the snakelike slaver’s belt jingled a collection of lightsabers he’d collected from all the Jedi and Sith he’d slain, though the clinking sound seemed to be legitimate coincidence from the unsavory slaver shaking his head. Both of them were too wary of each other, though Xuvas even more so given the Python’s daunting reputation among both Orders, and they stood next to each other awkwardly until Pjiega had worked out the details with the showroom’s paymaster via text messages. There would be time for cryptic warnings, but only after a bit of footwork was done.


	2. Out of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delegation and trust in subordinates is required of any leader.

Two weeks later, the Chevins had already begun operation far on the other side of Hutta’s vast, ironically bloated surface. Lord Xuvas hadn’t lifted a finger, wanting to see how efficiently his newest recruits could work. He wasn’t disappointed; in those two weeks, the ten former slaves had navigated through Hutt Space’s complex business licensing and zoning law system, scouted multiple potential commercial properties, and wined and dined enough elders in Hutta’s Chevin community to make themselves known. By the end of those two weeks, Xuvas had a front business for gathering intelligence in Hutt Space all without doing any work or writing any signatures of his own.

How curious, then, that his first opportune moment arrived at the end of those two weeks just as he was about to return to Sith Space. On that particular afternoon, he’d sat through a grueling, two-hour fiscal report meeting with Hyrax, the ambitious leader of his subservient Chevin cabal. Hyrax was energetic, grateful for his emancipation, and legitimately enthusiastic about the public business conducted by the front, but these qualities also resulted in a young man who didn’t know when to stop talking.

Hyrax slid forward one of three datapads scattered along the table in the executive office overseeing a busy warehouse floor. Why the ambitious elephantine needed three separate datapads was beyond Xuvas. “Look, right here. You can see that, prior to selection of the climate control system, we actually paid site visits to four separate providers. We didn’t just request a brochure - I had three of our cabal show up personally. I mean, when I say we chose the best climate system, what I’m saying comes from a position of knowledge. Does that make sense, my lord?”

Xuvas paused for a moment, controlling his impatience and shielding the young Chevin from it; harshness in the face of such initiative wouldn’t yield positive results no matter how badly the pureblood wanted o do so. “Yes, I get it,” Xuvas replied flatly.

“Now, look at this,” Hyrax said while arbitrarily switching datapads. “I designed an info graphic showing how much money we’ve saved by importing the frames for our storage units from off-world. You’d think that importing would cost more, right? Yet we’re actually getting better quality [i]and[/i] a lower price compared to local manufacturers.”

“Right…”

Oblivious to how much he was boring his patron, Hyrax continued the impromptu presentation with even more gusto. “Good! See, I was hoping you’d agree, just to be absolutely sure. Now, my lord, I’ve also prepared a two-year projection for a business similar to ours - not the same since I can’t foretell the future, but one with similar assets. There’s this great app for calculating potential earning based on multiple factors. Are you familiar with the Marklar item calculation suite?”

Not having paid attention, Xuvas made a serious error. “No-“

“Well, let me show you!” Hyrax exclaimed, his elephantine eyes lighting up. Setting up two datapads as one continuous screen, the young Chevin began working his three fingers with remarkable, if annoying, dexterity. “Here, let me show you the basic tour of their business planning software!”

Desperate to escape the meeting, Xuvas tapped into the aura of his overly enthusiastic worker and pulled a swift mind trick. “We finished the meeting and it was extremely productive,” he said while waving his hand in front of Hyrax’s face, no longer caring if he missed any significant financial details by doing so.

It worked like a charm. “Thank you so much for coming, my lord!” Hyrax said, standing up and bowing deeply to his master’s relief. “That meeting was extremely productive.” Just then, a holoterminal in the back of the office began to ring, causing the pachyderm to freeze up. Xuvas eyed the young man in a questioning manner, sensing excitement behind the elongated leathery face. “This is the first time one of our cabal has contacted me via the terminal. Perhaps I should check, my lord?”

Xuvas waved a finger toward the terminal, signaling his permission. “I’ll sit just out of view.”

Moving his chair toward a corner, he watched as Hyrax walked over to the terminal and greeted another member of their front business. “The galaxy changes,” Hyrax said, using an expression which was likely characteristic of their culture.

Another Chevin whom Xuvas had identified as some sort of stepsister or half-sister of Hyrax began speaking in a hushed tone. “Change is afoot. I bring news.”

“I listen,” Hyrax replies in a similarly hushed tone.

“An unlicensed medical company on Nar Shaddaa is attempting to move over a hundred liters of a stimulant which can temporarily increase mammalian resilience to sudden drops in temperature. They’re in one of the lower cities of the moon, surrounded by common thieves, and they’ve sought a buyer capable of transporting the product out of such dangerous territory.”

“Sounds like a possible deal,” Hyrax said while stroking his pachydermoid chin.

“I’m not interested in that,” Xuvas said flippantly.

The elephantine informant couldn’t hear him and thus wasn’t fazed in the least. “The buyer they’ve sought is a Republic scientist arriving with an escort from the Department of Adjudication.”

Xuvas leaned far forward in his seat. “I’m suddenly very interested in that,” he said to Hyrax.

Hyrax got that shine in his eyes again and waved for his relative to continue. “Because the company is unlicensed, the Republic military wouldn’t deal with such an organization directly. Our contacts implied that the scientist involved must have exploited nepotism to earn chaperones from the Adjudicators. It’s most likely that they’ll be operating under radio silence.”

“Meaning they can be preempted in foreign space, unaided and without reinforcements,” Xuvas said in a low voice, closing his fingers into a fist subconsciously. “Ask her how much time is left.”

“News is temporal,” Hyrax said, following Xuvas’ instructions but in his own curious way.

“Temporal relation is sixteen minus two,” the cabal informant replied. “I would have contacted you earlier, but I’ve learned of this at a social function. Even now, I need to return to the hosts so that my absence isn’t noticed.”

“Can you send the details of location and personnel?” Hyrax asked.

“I can if I take my leave right now. I can do so within the next few minutes; then, I must return to the hosts.”

Without even bidding her farewell, Hyrax closed the broadcast. Xuvas sensed no offense in the young man’s aura, implying that goodbyes weren’t the habit among the cabal. Turning back to him with a wide grin on that enormous pachyderm mouth, Hyrax positively sparkled. “I’ll transcribe the exact details momentarily, my lord; you have fourteen standard hours. Only two weeks in, and we’ve already found you an opportunity!”

“Indeed you have.” Xuvas rose from his chair, stopping by Hyrax in his way out and laying a hand on the young elephantine’s shoulder. “Success lies with those who take initiative. Excuse me while I send a transmission of my own.”

Flattered to the point of shyness, Hyrax knelt down. “We’ll continue to make you proud, my lord.”

Nodding and leaving Hyrax to transcribe the call, Xuvas stepped out of the office door and stood on the balcony overlooking the warehouse floor. A few of the Chevins on duty that shift directed teams of Advozsec and droid labor, setting up cold storage units in neat aisles in advance of regular customers approaching. Xuvas wouldn’t have been able to organize such an endeavor on his own in spite of his own intermediate business skills, and he admired the indirect results of his guidance, rather than his labor, for a moment. While Hyrax made more calls inside the office to surreptitiously confirm the details of the location, Xuvas stretched his wrist out of the drab brown cloak he was still disguised in and activated his comm link.

On the second try, he found success, and the image of Pjiega, surrounded by empty pizza boxes in her hotel room, greeted him. “Master,” she said, bowing to her portable terminal.

“Pjiega, we must mobilize for an operation on Nar Shaddaa in fourteen hours.”

The corner of her mouth peeled back mischievously. “Can we rob a casino?” she asked, and he could sense that she actually believed there was a chance of that happening.

“Even better: Republic Adjudicators. We need to intervene before they can complete a deal for a hundred liters of stims from an unlicensed company. Rouse your comrades from sleep, and contact my acolyte’s overseer on Korriban.”

Sweeping uneaten pizza crusts and even half a cup of tea onto the hotel room carpet, Pjiega opened a desktop projection on a countertop and started pushing icons. “I’m hacking into the others’ alarms to wake them early. Are you sure we can get your acolyte here on time? She’d have to board a shuttle…pretty much immediately, and she’ll have to land directly on Nar Shaddaa.”

“She’s not a kid anymore; she can either figure out how to handle an unfamiliar spaceport or end up homeless off-world. It builds character.”

After pushing a few more icons, Pjiega held a fist over her heart and bowed again. “I’ll see to all the details now,” she said, ending the transmission after he gave her the nod.

Alone for a few beautiful moments on the balcony, he leaned over the railing and watched the labor droids set an oversized cold storage unit for special cases into place. The way each unit fit into a square slot on the warehouse floor pleased him, and he almost lost himself while admiring the near-perfect symmetry of the storage units like a diamond in the rough of Hutta’s disorganized surface.

One of the droids lost its grip, seemingly faltering in its programming as it placed one of the units diagonally over the base. That single error in the field of perfection caused Xuvas to grit his teeth, offending his sense of order and organization. Every other unit and every other work team executed their tasks flawlessly, but that single error dominated his attentions disrupted his enjoyment. His moment ruined, he turned away to busy himself with the details of his newfound operation.


	3. Early Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plan and expect the unexpected; just one or the other won’t suffice.

Like the deep chasms of a craggy, mountainous world, the alleyways of Nar Shaddaa seemed to drop down for kilometers. Threatening to swallow up those without sure footing, those alleys exuded enough tension to elicit vertigo in people with weak stomachs. For one group of Imperial subjects, however, those cavernous alleys were merely a few steps in between them and a target.

On top of a one-hundred-and-fiftieth story showroom under construction, Xuvas perched, draped in yet another drab brown cloak to conceal his identity when operating on foreign soil. Stealth wasn’t his forte, but merely wearing the right colors had caused him to be ignored on the chaotic rows of the moon’s buildings so far. As he waited for the final member of his crew to arrive, he hoped that [i]all[/i] of his subordinates would follow suit. His expectations for a choice he’d made over a year prior weighed on him too much as he crouched on the edge of the skyscraper.

The presence of a rickety shuttle bus caught his attention, though the souls passed on their sympathetic vibrations to him before he heard the sound of the engine. Frightened and subdued, the aura of the driver remained still like a hidden rodent trying to escape an unfamiliar environment as soon as it could. From behind his own head, Xuvas could sense the shuttle bus as it paused briefly for a familiar, dark presence to emerge and leap down to the rooftop. Having fulfilled its duty, the bus sped off, leaving the most advanced acolyte marked as Xuvas’ protégé to creep over to his perch. Similarly cloaked, the sleep-deprived Miraluka teenager knelt down to him as a greeting.

“I’ve come, master,” Joguatha said deferentially.

Nodding for her to return to a standing position next to him, he looked over the fatigue marked on his eyeless acolyte’s face. He could sense that, while she’d arrived on time despite the short notice, she bore a measure of resentment for the lack of communication. When he felt her ire through the Force, she reacted defensively.

“I’m…merely winded. Glory to you,” she said with her head lowered. She had no idea that she was his favored student, nor could she; he had to maintain discipline. Thus, he had no choice but to leave her unsure of his true reaction to her irritation, and she remained stressed and cautious. Good.

Not returning her greeting, he crouched over the ledge of the skyscraper again, pointing straight down. “You’re to accompany me on a field trip; I’ll have you excused from the rest of your studies when you return to Korriban. Now, look,” he said, directing her to the abyssal alley below them. “Between floors forty-seven and fifty-one is an unlicensed research lab, a hundred liters of unused stimulants, and a squad of Republic Adjudicators.” He paused, giving her a moment to process the information he’d given her before he gave her a verbal exam. “What will we do?”

For a few seconds, she assumed his question was rhetorical, and she gave no response. When he said nothing further, however, he could sense the tension growing in her mind. Joguatha knew very well that she was being tested, as she was more than any of the other acolytes he’d marked as his own in a warning to other interested Sith Lords, yet her experience with such pop quizzes never lessened the stress he knew she felt. Also good.

Clutching the dark side rosary beads he’d once gifted her, she calculated possibilities in her mind at a speed which he admired and with a lack of subtlety which reminded him of himself; she had no idea that he could, due to proximity and emotional connection, sense her thought process.

“We will…take prisoners,” she said, unsure of herself but pleasing him all the same.

“Yes…” he replied, turning his pitch up at the end so she’d continue.

“We will…take their assets?” she said, almost asking.

“Go on.”

“And we will…” She stopped and glanced down into the alleyway again. Without any assistance, she proved her value as a budding frontline commander on his path. “…jump all the way down, break in suddenly, and speak about this to no one?”

Her ingenuity, promptness, and cleverness in spite of fatigue impressed him enough that he felt the need to give at least one complement. “Excellent,” he said, hoping that he hadn’t spoiled her when he felt her joy seeping out to the extent that any Force-sensitive within five kilometers would have detected the feeling. Not wanting to overdo his praise, he kept her waiting while he activated his wrist-mounted commlink, bringing up the image of Pjiega, donning similar brown robes with a jet pack and crouching on a fire escape dozens of stories below. “Pjiega, what is the probe showing you?” he asked.

Shifting such that another one of his Rattataki private soldiers came into view, the leader of his henchmen frowned. “The basic layout matches the floor plan which Hyrax found on file for us, but there’ve been alterations. The, the…placement of stuff is different.”

“What precisely is different?” Xuvas asked, not helped by her habit of vague language.

“It’s like, the way stuff is designed. There were supposed to be four windows and two vents on the north side of the building, but there’s only one vent, and all of the windows are sealed with metal panels. I have Hyrax on the other line, he swears that whoever rented this place modified it without leaving any records of the change.”

“Why is this important?” Xuvas asked next, long since used to going through the motions of wh-questions on missions.

“It’s important because now we can’t enter stealthily. Now we have to blast the panels open, so they’ll hear us coming.”

“Now the situation is clear. Patch through the resonance scans picked up by the probe.”

Pjiega’s confirmation was cut short by the channel switching, sending through a hologram depicting a cross-section of the building. Rotating slowly and flickering every few seconds as the image was updated, the light blue picture emitted from Xuvas’ wrist piece showed a partially hollowed-out studio created by crude demolition performed on the second and third floors up from the bottom. An unlicensed, unhealthy filtration system focused a series of steam pipes up toward the top ceiling in a cheap jury-rigged filtration setup which focused all the pollutants into the single vent, nixing that as a potential point of entry. At the very bottom near the front door, there was a great deal of movement among the pixelated bodies, a few of them stinging both Sith master and acolyte with the bright goodness of light-sided individuals.

Xuvas held his wrist closer to Joguatha, and she knew she was being tested again. Without prompting, she began thinking hard about what they were to do. “Those people at the door…they must be the Adjudicators, but none of their group is Force-sensitive. There are five of them, and…eight…yes, eight of the gang members who run this place are armed.” He merely nodded, affirming her comprehension but not helping her along. “We should…blow open the metal panels because that’s our only way in, but we shouldn’t do it yet. We should wait for both sides to grow comfortable with each other so their guard is down.”

“And after we blow open the panels? Once they know they’re being invaded?”

Her brow furrowed over her eyehole covering. “We expect a fight. We can Force jump over to them…” She paused, hesitant and disappointed when he shook his head. “We raise our weapons in defense…” He shook his head again, and he could feel her becoming self-conscious. He could intervene this time to avoid embarrassing her into passivity.

“We have more troops than both sides combined. I’m preparing you to take my place, one day - not to take the place of a common foot soldier.” Her negativity increased at the mention of her eventually replacing him; he didn’t discourage her attachment due to the resentment she carried over the emotional distance enforced on her by the Jedi Order in her childhood. Still, her anxiety over his statement was a powerful tool, and he made no effort to alleviate her stressed reaction. “Hubris is the downfall of many a great Sith; for all the power of our Order, none of us can conquer and dominate without the support of regimented troops. You must learn to command others, and only to intervene when necessary. There are no Jedi among our targets, thus our involvement is superfluous - as well as risky. Our targets could easily escape only two of us…and there will always be more common soldiers than Sith. A wise commander puts those soldiers to good strategic and tactical use.”

For the first time that evening, he actually turned his head to look at her directly. “Do you understand what I’ve told you?” he asked.

Though slow to answer and still upset by his earlier choice of words, she didn’t speak until he could sense her certainty. “Yes, master.”

“Then show me,” he said, holding the hologram closer to her.

Looking closely at the hologram, she reached out and turned the image with a press of her fingertips. “Four sealed panels, so every panel must be blown open simultaneously. One soldier to blast each one open, four to enter before the smoke clears.”

“And then?” he asked, suppressing his own satisfaction so she’d continue to feel the pressure.

She rotated the hologram again to get a better look at the entrance. “The troops must take up defensive positions to lure the targets toward them; we can’t risk anyone escaping through the entrance opposite the windows. We should enter once the enemy targets have advanced and jump to secure the entrance; numbers and the element of surprise can then allow our soldiers to-“

In mid-sentence, Joguatha was cut off by Pjiega suddenly interrupting the hologram with a transmission of her own. Explosions could be heard as Pjiega’s helmet-embedded camera picked up the live 2-D image of her and the rest of the private soldiers jumping down through the shredded panels into a fresh firefight. “Master, they all turned on each other!” was all she could say before she ducked behind cover to avoid a plasma blast nearly hitting her.

Chaos reached both master and acolyte atop the skyscraper, touching them both with the amalgam of shock and awe experienced by the panicked gang members and Republic officials. Joguatha looked to Xuvas, unsure of how to react in such a situation, but she followed him as he rose from his perch.

“No change in plans necessary; everyone else just began early,” he said, waving for her to join him. “Hurry, lest any of the targets escape. Prepare for a live test of your Force jump skill!”


	4. Quick Finish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! After my COVID-19 hiatus, I’m slowly finishing out the stories I left untouched.

Wind whipped by Xuvas’ ears as he leapt into the cavernous alleys of Nar Shaddaa’s surface, adding to the adrenaline rush as he skipped a few floors at a time. Jumping from fire escape to fire escape, he controlled his aim without worrying about the noise and vibration he caused each time his boots landed given that the element of surprise had been lost. Only when he reached the grating and stairs forming a balcony over the fifty-first floor did he turn to check on his acolyte. Joguatha would have to keep up if she wanted to survive and become a fully recognized apprentice; a part of him wished to help her land the long jumps downward, but he knew that favoritism wouldn’t contribute to her benefit. Instead, he strenuously watched as she slipped on the fire escape of the sixty-third floor, feeling his heart rate spike but nodding in a sign of approval she didn’t notice when she nailed a corkscrew turn in midair to catch herself on the sixty-second.

Breathing heavily and shaking from the harrowing activity, she landed next to him without a word, visibly sighing in relief once the series of downward jumps was over. Satisfied that she’d passed the second true test in the time he’d known her, he turned toward the smoldering metal panels to the side of the fire escape and peered inside. A three-floor showroom inside had been retrofitted as an unsafe stim factory, as Pjiega had explained, and the firefight inside had generated an inordinate volume of smoke. Due to the unsanitary lack of ventilation, the smoke had begun to cloud the upper reaches of the showroom near the blown-out panel, compelling the Sith to close his eyes and sense the life forces of the bodies therein. Blue and white lines traced over the hard and soft surfaces inside, showing him the source of movement remaining after half the people inside had already been killed.

“Four adjudicators, three thugs, three scientists, all five of my troops; that’s who’s still inside,” Xuvas said out the side of his mouth to Joguatha, who only nodded in reply. Leaving her to stand still with an adrenaline rush wouldn’t do either of them any good, though, and he continued to push her. “Follow and observe!”

Gripping the hole blown in the wall, he leaped one story down into the showroom, landing on the mostly demolished second floor. The combination of cinderblocks and frayed rebar shook beneath his weight but held firm, and his acolyte followed thereafter. From his new vantage point beneath the plumes of rising smoke, he could see the thugs pinned behind hard cover and blind to the shots fired by the more professional Republic fighters.

He activated the commlink on his write device again. “Pjiega, we need the Republic scientist and as many of their adjudicators alive as possible. The gang members are unnecessary.”

Also hidden behind hard cover, the Rattataki warrior was able to answer freely. “Yes, master. I’ll see to it.” She then closed the line of communication, causing Joguatha to give Xuvas a puzzled look. She didn’t even need to speak for him to sense the question brewing in her mind.

“A commander trusts in his personnel to perform their jobs…and holds them to account when they don’t. Mistakes will be made, for sure, but micromanaging their actions won’t help either me or them.” He turned to look directly at Joguatha again, causing her to stand up straighter in response. “Tactics are handled in the ground; strategy is handled here above. Note the difference.”

She looked on with him, standing on the in-tact half of the showroom’s second floor while observing the action on the first. What ensued was one of the best live demonstrations he’d delivered in his time as a Sith master to apprentices so far. Shrouded by smoke, the two of them were able to watch the troop movements without obstruction, neither from blaster fire aimed at them nor from the arrival of authorities (the thugs employed by the stem factory technically [i]were[/i] the authorities down there). There were assembly lines, shelves, drywalls, and various other forms of cover forming a sort of maze through which the three warring sides ran back and forth, left and right, shifting position as they gained and then gave up ground in the firefight. Watching their movements resembled an ancient video game of sorts, and Joguatha began to comprehend their movements much faster than Xuvas had expected, likely due to the amount of time she wasted playing such games.

“The adjudicator there is retreating so apply first aid to a graze wound,” she said out loud while noticing one brief exchange of fire. “One of the thugs is retreating because he heard a grenade pin being pulled,” she said in response to another.

Xuvas smiled, knowing she wouldn’t see his reaction and feeling rather contented that her understanding of troop movements was developing so well. If only his own children could have been as diligent as his acolyte. Although the firefight was over in a matter of minutes, she likely learned more in those few minutes than she had in a month of traditional classroom lessons memorizing the names and dates of past battles.

In his contentment - or, as he’d come to view it, his complacency - Xuvas had ignored the Force signature of one of the targeted scientists. One individual whose presence he could sense had crawled into one of the air vents hanging suspended from the ceiling by rickety wires, a sniveling soul who’d fled the battle and would likely be loyal to whoever won in the end regardless of who it was. Just as the adjudicators, thugs, and Xuvas’ own troops nearly converged in the center of the maze formed by shelves and walls, one of the air vents flew open. Rather than a sudden pang of bravery, the scientist who’d been hiding inside reacted in panic and fear, and as delectable as those emotions were, his actions surprised Xuvas, who’d focused his sense of precognition on the fight on the floor rather than one coward hiding in an air vent.

“No more, no more! Just leave me alone!” the little Rodian scientist screamed, likely having guessed that all sides were prepared to abduct him when the battle was over.

Rather than sit idly by, the green man wearing a white lab coat tossed a volatile, unstable concoction to the floor. The plastic container broke upon impact, exploding in a gaseous cloud of hyperactive stimulants which had, apparently, been designed to send its victims into cardiac arrest rather than give them a high. Although Joguatha didn’t know what the substance was, she sensed Xuvas’ sudden outrage and urgency.

“Master, they’ll all die soon,” she said, concerned for the mission.

Her reaction was a good sign for her development, though Xuvas had no time to commend her, and he activated the comm link on his wrist quickly. “Pjiega, pull back!”

The leader of his troops answered after a brief delay, and her Force signature reflected Xuvas’ own sense of urgency. “Man down! Man down! We lost one of our own!”

Growling defensively for his assets, Xuvas walked to another edge of the broken second floor, allowing him a better view of the area near the entrance. “Find the stairs and reach higher ground!” he said hurriedly while sidestepping, Joguatha in tow. The Republic adjudicators had also been doused, and all of their number had collapsed. Their life forces were fading fast, threatening any benefit of intelligence from the operation. “Joguatha, use the Force to lift that one up here!”

“Yes, master!” she replied while kneeling and reaching forward, gripping one of the dying adjudicators by the collar. Her concentration was hampered by her surprise, but Xuvas couldn’t intervene while also maintaining her training.

“Faster!” he yelled harshly, aiming to startle her and send her adrenaline rushing once more. “Lift him up faster before we lose more than we have tonight!”

“I’m trying!” she replied, her voice becoming unusually shrill under the pressure. That pressure sufficed to motivate her, however, and she Force-pulled the least endangered adjudicator from the ground.

Back arched as he was pulled up by the uniform, the Republic operative’s limbs dangled downward as his body rose above the clouds of noxious gas. Once he’d risen above the second floor, Joguatha dropped him on the floor, a little roughly, and watched him struggle to breathe. At the other side of the second floor, Pjiega and the other Rattataki fighters dragged up one of their own, lifeless and still after a bad reaction to the stimulants. The gas continued to rise to roughly the level of their ankles before settling toward the floor, suffocating the factory thugs and Republic operatives who were stuck down there in the center of the floor; the team of scientists, all of whom had taken refuge at their drug cooking stations, were still in their death throes and beyond help.

Xuvas looked to one of his personal soldiers, one who he knew had first aid knowledge. “You, tend to this one; we need at least one of them alive.”

The Rattataki gunner stood and rushed over to the adjudicator, pulling out a small field medicine kit and got to work, hooking a pocket-sized AED to the convulsing operative and fiddling with a number of other first aid items. Pjiega, his longest-serving minion and the only soldier who he’d allow to question him, gripped the hand of the motionless Rattataki. “My lord, we lost him!” she said, angry at the world for the loss of one of the gunners under her lead. “Lost him to a beaker tossed by some wretch!”

The other Rattataki soldiers radiated their anger into the Force, but as much as Xuvas identified with their loss of a group member, he couldn’t show his own anger so visibly. Even a practitioner of the dark side had to maintain control of his underlings, and he didn’t need their tempers to flare - not yet, at least. Holding out a hand to order a pause, Xuvas walked slowly to the edge of the second floor amid the sounds of the AED beeping and his field medic working to resuscitate their [i]one[/i] measly prisoner. For an evil overlord who relished in taking prisoners, the sight of dead bodies on the first floor below burned his pride with the visual reminder of missed opportunities. The smoke began to clear a little too late, and the last of the scientists who’d been left on the floor finally stopped twitching and laid still. He had the tanks of illegal stimulants, and a team of Republic competitors had been eliminated, but the victory felt hollow, even when the adjudicator who Joguatha had pulled up coughed and hacked in a weak sign of life. Xuvas couldn’t turn his attention away from the air vents.

Raising a single hand, Xuvas focused his energies slowly, ever mindful to allow his acolyte to sense what he was doing and learn, taking a lesson even after a tactical failure. Rotating his hand outward, Xuvas Force-ripped one side of the air vent off with a screeching metallic sound, sending a three-meter long strip of cheap aluminum tumbling to the first floor and garnering a shriek from the scared Rodian who’d gassed everyone else in the room. The scientist tried scooting away, further up the air vent, but Xuvas rotated his hand back inward and gripped the Rodian’s chest cavity through the Force, squeezing tightly enough to cut off the reptilian man’s scream without choking him to death. Muscles spasming, the Rodian floated through the air as if pulled by invisible wires, landing right at the head of the Rattataki soldier whose death he’d caused. Xuvas burned his gaze down onto the gasping scientist, and Pjiega looked up at her master in vengeful hope.

The Sith Lord folded his arms behind his back and waited until the AED signaled that the adjudicator had survived, if barely. The soft, rhythmic beeps formed a background of white noise while Xuvas made his decision. “Your comrade will be brought back to Dromund Kaas for the burial of a soldier rather than a slave,” he said in a flat, controlled tone, much to the joy of the other Rattataki. Xuvas then turned toward the Rodian scientist. “As for this one…do as you wish so long as he lives. I reserve the final act in the story of his life for myself. Bring him when you’re done, along with the stimulant tanks and the Republic prisoner, up to the roof.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Thinx lives for another day, and the prequel story is now complete. Big thanks to the player of Lord Sidoenis whose RP with me inspired this story.

Almost two hours later, Xuvas stood on the roof of the run down skyscraper while watching the sky. Even though the dark of night provided a measure of cover, he still retained the drab brown cloak he’d been wearing since he arrived in Hutt Space lest he be recognized. As if to emphasize his paranoia, he telekinetically destroyed the landing lights on the rooftop as the Trandoshan atmospheric craft landed in front of him, not wanting any outside observers to see who he was consorting with. The bumpy, unattractive landing craft came to a halt and rested for a moment while the on-ramp lowered to the landing pad, allowing two of the lizard people to exit. The shorter of the two walked closer to Xuvas even when his colleague stopped, giving the pureblood an up-close view of a person who disliked working with him and vice versa, yet who always answered his call.

The Python’s slit-like eyes took notice when Xuvas activated a comm-link on his wrist. “Our ride is here,” she spoke to Pjiega through the link before nodding his head toward his ‘ride.’

The Python didn’t seem offended by the comment, but his response was curt and distant as always. “Your people need to load everything themselves; you called for a ride to your own ship, so I’ve only brought a ride. There’s no labor in this deal.”

Though Xuvas concealed his emotions in this case, he felt the slaver’s statement to be a slight against him. “I’ll remember that for future negotiations.”

“Please do,” the Python said brusquely while turning away a quarter. “Just let me know when you’re ready to leave.” The lizard man then walked back toward his colleague who was enjoying some sort of e-cigarette while the two of them conversed. Xuvas couldn’t probe the Python so easily in the Force, but he certainly could probe the mind of the lizard man’s colleague, and he sensed no treachery afoot. The timing was impeccable, for he heard the sound of his troops exiting the roof’s elevator.

Behind him walked out his Rattataki soldiers, walking solemnly while two of them carried their fallen comrade draped in a red cloth, followed by two more carrying the sealed tanks of stimulant they’d confiscated. The Python watched those two in particular, for the stimulant was to be his payment for flying Xuvas’ entourage to his hidden Imperial shuttle on short notice. The four soldiers said nothing as they boarded the Trandoshan shuttle, leaving Xuvas to speak only to the last two members of his staff. Walking out of the elevator first was Pjiega, gripping one captive in each hand. The Republic Adjudicator had been bound and gagged yet carried himself with a measure of dignity which had saved him from the Sith’s wrath. Walking slowly due to his earlier heart episode, the human refused to beg or plead, and thus hadn’t been roughed up by the rowdy Rattataki troops once he’d been healthy enough to stand. In Pjiega’s other hand was the Rodian scientist, crumpled into a weeping excuse of a person as Pjiega dragged him along the ground like a beaten house cat pulled on a leash. She left the Rodian on the roof in front of Xuvas and continued walking to the shuttle, boarding it with her direct reports in the seating area.

Joguatha was the last to exit, standing next to Xuvas and bowing in front of him. “I thank you for this field experience, master,” the Miraluka said before standing up straight again. “Where will we go to now?”

Even when displeased by the outcome of the covert action, Xuvas couldn’t stop being a teacher when around his student. Every moment was an opportunity for learning. “How did you get here, Joguatha?” he asked her.

She snorted and looked down, and he sensed a weariness in her which he disliked. “Well, I had to sneak out of the dorms and onto a shuttle to the Korriban space station, which wasn’t easy. Then I had to use the Force to trick the ticket master into letting me board a flight to the Dromun Kaas station without an ID. I tricked a clerk there into making me a fake ID, and I used that to board a flight into Hutt Space. I had to bribe my way on the rest of the journey here.” Though her species lacked eyes, she did tilt her head up at him slightly as if milking her arduous journey for sympathy, much in the way his children tried to do. And that was one of the qualities which made him enjoy his children less than his student.

“Then you know how to find your way back,” he replied in brief, not giving her the chance to bum a ride off of him. He felt her hope wilt, which was an added benefit. “You’re learning how to travel long distances without being noticed; that builds character. Go to the next building, prove your strength against a tough-looking stranger by beating and robbing them, and then use your treasure to find your way back to your dorms. I’ll be back there in six standard days.” He said nothing more, watching her silently like a strict father figure, though without the responsibilities borne by one.

Joguatha’s disappointment was palpable, and he almost felt guilty, but she recognized the value in the hard lessons taught. “Yes…master,” she sighed in realization of the long trip she had ahead of her. She walked to the edge of the building before Force-jumping to the roof of the next one, covering over thirty meters of space before landing on the top, beginning her lonely trip to Korriban alone.

With his staff all busy, Xuvas was faced only by the Rodian scientist who’d been working for the local miscreants. Weakness radiating from the scaly man as he cried at the Sith’s feet, disgusting Xuvas by the display. Not even needing to use the Force, Xuvas reached down and physically grabbed the Rodian by the shoulder, causing a pained cry; the Rattataki had taken their sorrow at their comrade’s loss out on the Rodian for the better part of twenty minutes, and the joint had been dislocated. Cuts, bruises, and broken bones pumped pain into the man’s aura, granting Xuvas a small reprieve from how upset he was.

“M-my name is Mr. Thinx,” the Rodian whimpered. “I was born on a summer day…when I was a little boy - argh!”

Xuvas shook the small man in the air, jarring all the fractured bones. “No matter what you say, I’ll never see you as deserving of life,” he explained in a sharp tone. “I’ll never pity you, nor will I see you as an individual. Save me the soliloquy; you botched my mission.”

“But I r-r-reacted emotionally and slayed enemies! I’m just like you!” the Rodian protested.

At that comment, Xuvas dropped the man, causing another fracture to audibly break even more. Mr. Thinx screamed until he gagged and fell silent. “No, you’re a sniveling swine who’s accomplished nothing in life. I came here to capture your Republic counterpart…this foot soldier is nice, but I wanted the brains behind this deal - the one you killed when you started tossing beakers around. Instead I have you, an unkempt, unlicensed, feckless little worm boiling narcotics in an unsanitary excuse for a factory. At least the adjudicator will yield names and plans, willingly or no. What will you yield?”

The Rodian was unable to answer, so much was the degree of his pain. Nauseated by the weakness, Xuvas had to step away lest he show visible signs of discomfort in front of his troops. Instead, he walked over to the Python a few steps and waited, signaling that he wished to speak with the slaver. The ophidian offender left his colleague and walked over to the Sith, silent while waiting to hear what Xuvas had to say.

“How much for you to shoot that thing?” he asked while pointing toward the Rodian named Mr. Thinx. “I’d do it myself, but I don’t even want to look at it anymore.”

Normally never one to ask questions, the Python glanced at Mr. Thinx in confusion. “Just to be clear, so I don’t misunderstand…you don’t want to keep the scientist for yourself? I have a slave collar which I could sell you for cheaper than I’d charge for a targeted killing.”

Xuvas finally showed his annoyance outwardly. “It’s laying right over there; why would you possibly charge more to just shoot it where it lies than for a full-on slave collar?”

“There’s risk involved,” the Python replied. Xuvas’ eyes nearly popped out of his head, but the slaver didn’t react.

“The…what sort of risk is involved with pulling a gun and shooting him?” the Sith asked, his patience wearing thin in spite of the Trandoshan’s nonchalance.

“I’d expect you to understand, Sith. Everything in the galaxy is connected, everything in the universe, connected. There is no act which occurs without an effect on the entirety of existence. Your kind calls it the Force, mine calls is the Scorekeeper, but all civilizations use these names for the same thing…if you waste an opportunity, pass up on a gift horse, whatever people want to say, then there’s a reaction. If you want me to translate it into Basic…the universe has a way of keeping count.”

Before Xuvas could retort, he recognized the phrase from half a standard month ago. The scaly snake had already told him those exact words without explaining their meaning, right after he’d executed one of the eleven Chevin slaves upon purchase. The Python might have been an amoral scumbag who leeched off the wider society he lived in, yet the man still seemed to have some set of standards, beyond the common definition of morality, which caused him to speak. And although Xuvas had no objective reason to consider the phrase for more than a few seconds, his sense of precognition - as well as postcognition - compelled him to think about the phrase for a little longer. Long enough for him to connect his wasting of a newly-bought slave’s life to the loss of one of his soldiers as well as a potential asset from the Republic scientific community.

He resented a non-Force sensitive profligate for drawing such a conclusion for him, yet Xuvas didn’t feel comfortable rejecting the Python’s advice a second time. Upon reflection, he began to wonder if he’d been ignoring ripples in the Force set in motion by his summary execution of the obsequious one-eyed Chevin when he’d first arrived in Hutt Space. The entire experience there called for a measure of introspection into his attentiveness, but he could save that for his ride back into Sith Space. For the time being, he had to call a spade a spade and admit that he’d made a mistake in wasting a resource; ripples or not, it didn’t behoove him to make that same mistake again.

Bringing up his wrist piece, Xuvas opened a slot and inserted a credit stick from his belt into the port. “On second though, I’ll be economic about this…just give me the slave collar. I’ll put that wretch to good use.”

Though the Python would make money either way, and both men had made clear to each other how little they enjoyed doing business, the old snake moved more quickly when pulling the slave collar out of his jacket, not offering any suggestions this time. “Three-hundred credits,” the Trandoshan replied while offering the collar readily.

Xuvas took the item and, in order to avoid directly touching the miserable excuse of a man called Mr. Thinx, levitated it onto the Rodian’s neck through the Force. He then telekinetically dragged the weeping heap onto the Trandoshan shuttle, following thereafter. “Change in plans,” he said to Mr. Thinx without actually looking down at the bug-eyed alien. “Looks like you live for another day.”


End file.
